i can never throw out a jar till its sides are scraped clean.
holler for compensation!
i look at photos of people i haven't seen in months and they always seem too skinny and i worry.
some days all i want is to move back to the south and find a big drafty paintpeeling house with creaking floors and haunted attics and wind that howls through the cracks in the wintertime. and we can grow carrots and rosemary and big luscious tomatoes and invite everyone we know to come live with us and fill up big tables and dig in the dirt and soak up sunshine and grime and a bit of everything till we run through the shade and fall into pine needle embraces.
(can i gather everyone i love all into one place for once, instead of all these scattered bits of our affections spread so far apart?)
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